“You can have this forever,” Orinakin whispered.
The soft words, the soft breath on his ear, made Bade suddenly aware of how close Orinakin was. They were friends, they’d spent a good deal of time together, but not like this, not almost cheek-to-cheek, not almost chest-to-chest, not with soft music playing, not so thoroughly in each other’s personal space.
But Orinakin had done this before, had danced with many men, had been with many men. How many men, he wondered. And what did Orinakin do with them? He liked the ones who made noise, but what did he do to get them to make noise? What did he do that made them moan for him, that made them cry out with pleasure?
He was, no doubt, very, very experienced. And he was, of course, very, very handsome. His build was ideal, his features were perfect, he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair… Bade’s hand slid up an inch, fingers curling into the silk of Orinakin’s hair, that gorgeous hair that he’d wanted to touch since he’d first seen Orinakin how many months ago.
The gods had smiled on him when Orinakin came to Nosupolis. He’d never known anyone so beautiful. He’d never been friends with anyone so grand. He’d never been this close to anyone so important who made him feel so good about himself. He’d never had anything in his life like Orinakin before.
“Bade,” Orinakin whispered, and he loved the way that Orinakin said his name, with such a posh, proper accent, like the most upper-class Nosupolin student from the best and most expensive schools, not with the casual inflection of other Anorians, not with the respectful, clipped tones of Nosupolins addressing their royalty.
A faint, red flush was creeping up to the tip of Orinakin’s ear, just like the wave of desire rolling hotly through Bade, heating him from the inside out. It was a perfect ear, with a delicate line of purple jewels right up the curve of it. He wanted to nibble that ear, wanted to taste the smooth, smooth skin of Orinakin’s neck. Watching the soft pink color spread, Bade smiled. He’d never been able to make someone blush with just a thought.
The music was slow and hypnotic, a beautiful melody with a sensual beat. Slowly, gradually, easily, naturally, together, Bade and Orinakin closed the gap between their bodies. Now they were chest to chest, hip to hip, and Bade felt Orinakin’s temple rest intimately against his, heard - - felt - - Orinakin release a long breath. He felt Orinakin’s body relax in his arms, languidly swaying to the music and following Bade’s lead. Bade closed his eyes, and the rest of the world drifted away. There was only the music, and the intoxicating movement of their bodies.
Dancing this way with Orinakin was more intimate than he’d expected. It was a thought that would have concerned him, but Bade didn’t want to think anymore, wanted only to feel. At the moment, Bade felt peaceful contentment, and felt slowly, steadily building desire, rising from the low hum that had been fairly constant throughout the day, to a need that grew more and more pressing as the dance went on.
Orinakin was so close and so warm. His body was like nothing Bade had ever felt before, like no one he’d ever had. He heard Orinakin’s breath quicken slightly next to his ear, and the sound made him tingle. Emboldened, he slid his hand down Orinakin’s spine, his palm coming to a slow stop just at the first tempting curve of Orinakin’s ass, coaxing Orinakin’s heat closer, biting back a groan as-
Bade passed Vade’s compass from hand to hand. Flicking it open, he watched the arrow point him homeward, north to his cold mountains, north to his family, north to where he’d begun.
If he went home now, he’d have failed. He would return empty-handed and disgraced. This was the only real chance he’d ever had to do something important, and he’d ruined it.
If he stayed, he’d be a liar. A liar, a deceiver, a manipulator. He wasn’t in love with Kudorin. What he felt for Kudorin was an odd blend of what he felt for Selorin and what he felt for Tiko, mixed in with some utter awe and respect for the deity who raised the sun.
And then there was what he felt for Orinakin, which was like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. Orinakin was much more than a friend. Orinakin was a close and trusted and invaluable friend, someone he could talk to about anything, someone he could confide in, someone he could interrogate, someone he could celebrate with, someone who encouraged him to succeed in everything, someone who pushed him to do the best that he possibly could in all areas. Someone he wanted to do everything with and share everything with. Someone he trusted and felt comfortable with. Someone he felt a bond with, a bone-deep connection with, like when they were together everything made more sense.
All of that was true of his relationship with Vade, too, but in a vastly different way. After their dance tonight, Bade could no longer deny that he wanted Orinakin. He wanted Orinakin’s body in bed, Orinakin’s flesh hot against his, Orinakin’s gorgeous purple hair fanned across his pillow. He wanted to kiss Orinakin’s wrists and stroke Orinakin’s back and taste Orinakin’s sweat. He wanted to make love to Orinakin, to feel Orinakin’s firm, smooth body under his hands, to-
But he couldn’t. He’d traveled here for Kudorin. He had no right to accept the invitation, take advantage of the royal family’s hospitality, of the nation’s generosity, and then make a pass at the pharaoh’s brother. He couldn’t be that immoral, that despicable.
He couldn’t marry Kudorin. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t have Orinakin. The only option left for him was to keep his private lust a secret, and go home.
With him, he would take his shame for his failure, and his memories, and, buried in a corner of one trunk, Orinakin’s braid.
He would leave behind his heart.
